Negotiations
by ekp95m
Summary: Prince Caspian Movie-Verse::King Edmund meets with King Miraz to discuss the one-on-one battle with Peter. Miraz's desicion and the conditions for battle take Edmund off-guard and things go down hill from there. Rated T, just to be safe. No Slash.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fiction so let me know how I'm doing, please review. A big thank you goes out to my friend and amazing beta, Shadow_Elf_Warrior. Thaks for all your help Shadow!  
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia is the property of C.S. Lewis and Walden Pictures. Not mine.

**Negotiations  
**Chapter One

Tapping his foot, the young man waited patiently for an audience with the Telmarine King Miraz. The wind pressed his dark brown hair gently against his forehead in a careless fashion. Taking a mouthful of air and tilting his head back slowly, he took in the unique scent that filled the air. The Narnian wood had the wonderful aroma of summer trees just beginning to lose their leaves to the autumn winds and the enticing perfume of the daisies in the field nearby. The young Narnian King relished the moment in silent contemplation for, although though the woods were still and tranquil, Edmund's mind was abuzz with worries and questions.

From listening to the earlier disputes between his older brother, High King Peter, and the Telmarine prince, Caspian the Tenth, he understood the significance and importance of having King Miraz follow the terms stated on the parchment rolled carefully in his hands. Peter and Caspian had debated for what had seemed like hours about what would be the appropriate course of action to take.

The letter requested a duel of sorts between Peter and King Miraz as a way of distracting the Telmarine forces while the real plan was put into action. Edmnd, of course, knew who the victor would be. Peter had never lost a match.

While this was going on, Lucy, along with Queen Susan by her side for good measure, would be racing through the forest to find the magnificent lion, Aslan, for help. Aslan had yet to appear for him during the extent of their second trip to this extraordinary land, but Lucy claimed to have seen him at the gorge. It wasn't that Edmund didn't believe his little sister, for he did with all his heart and soul, Edmund was simply troubled as to why the great lion would not emerge for him. He would just have to wait for the magnificent beast's plans to unfold.

While the young monarch was lost in his mind, three Telmarine soldiers surfaced from the Telmarine campsite, of which Edmund was waiting on the perimeter of, and cautiously approached him. Their heavy footfall pulled Edmund from his reverie to observe their approach. Three pairs of eyes, all just as wearisome as the next, bore in to him as though seeing right through him. The men were gruff and disheveled in appearance and reflected the poor amount of respect King Miraz held for his subjects. The closer they got, the easier it was for Edmund to examine them and determine just how much of a potential threat they might be to the task at hand. The soldiers all had dark, bronzed skin littered with scars and black beard on their chins that seemed to be uniform for the army. Beards connected with greasy black hair that gave the impression to have never had a good wash. They were strong physically, but no doubt they knew next to nothing about their liege's intentions.

The soldier standing in the middle spoke in a nervous, yet assertive tone, completely unlike the commanding and respective tone utilized by his elder brother. "His Majesty, King Miraz, is prepared for your proposition," he stated, glaring straight into Edmund's eyes and vigilantly scrutinizing the young king's every move.

Edmund rose in a stately manner, squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine. He strode effortlessly toward Miraz's tent, making a mental note of the three soldiers taking up positions on both his left, right, and directly behind him. Once under the canvas of the tent, Edmund met the gaze of ten councilmen and King Miraz. He took his place in the center of the men and watched each of their eyes widen. '_They must be shocked by my age. I must admit though, it's probably not too often that they are approached by an eleven year old diplomat,_' Edmund reminded himself as he collected his thoughts.

The council shifted absently as they arranged themselves to humor the young king's proposal. King Edmund cleared his mind and took a deep breath, smoothly unrolling the fragile letter in his sweaty palms. Looking Miraz directly in the eyes confidently as he spoke, Edmund began. He spoke clearly and articulated every word efficiently and in a convincing tone. He easily read the numerous self-titles Peter had felt inclined to include, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction to see the eyes of everyone else present widen, and then proceeded to recite the conditions of the battle itself.

Once Edmund finished, he relaxed slightly, though he knew the most difficult portion of this meeting was yet to come; the negotiation. He closed the parchment and rolled the document back up, placing it under his arm. King Miraz sat with his fingers folded under his chin for a few moments, determining the young man's expression with his eyes, watching for any hint of anxiousness or doubt. He found none; only confidence and pride dwelled in this Edmund's deep brown eyes. Miraz smirked at him and sat up in his seat to respond.

King Miraz replied in his heavily accented voice, "Tell me, Prince Edmund-"

"King," Edmund interjected without thinking, it was really more of an instinct to protect his pride than a remark meant to insult. King Miraz's silence and raised eyebrow told Edmund he need to elucidate his abrupt interruption.

"It's _King_ Edmund, actually," Edmund elaborated. Still receiving the same gaze from the Telmarine king, Edmund continued. "Peter is High King. I know it's rather confusing for someone not truly accustomed to such a thing." Edmund shrugged carelessly, as though it didn't really matter to him if Miraz understood or not.

Furrowing his brow and nodding in understanding, Miraz spoke again. "Well then, tell me, _King_ Edmund, why should I accept to this duel when my forces are in position to easily demolish your own?"

To King Miraz's right, Lord Sopespian added his own opinion in a sly voice. "Yes my lord, accepting would be a danger to your health and, therefore, the health of your kingdom. Declining would be perfectly respectable and advantageous."

Edmund seized the opportunity to provoke his adversary. Teasing innocently in a persuasive, yet mocking tone, he said, "So you are refusing to fight a swordsman half your age?"

"I have not refused _anything_, yet!" Miraz ground out, shooting a glare at Edmund.

Lord Sopespian looked taken aback and sank back into his seat. Miraz took another moment to consider his options, massaging his temples vigorously. He sat wordlessly for a few moments and Edmund had to stifle a chuckle at the sight of the ruffled Telmarine king. Suddenly, King Miraz's mood seemed to brighten, and a deceitful smile spread across his features.

"King Edmund, I have decided to humor your brother in this match, but I have a few conditions of my own." His smile grew wider and his eyes shone in a way that instantly brought up Edmund's guard.

"I'm listening," Edmund replied warily, barely keeping his confident tone aloft.


	2. Chapter 2

Here is chapter two! I want to give a big thank you to the amazing Shadow_Elf_Warrior and their incredible insight and dedication to me and my antics.  
Also, as many of you know, I have a traffic counter and of the two-hundred people who viewed this piece, I only recieved five reviews. Please, please, please review. Flames are welcome and I would like to know what you guys think of my work. Let me know?  
Along with this piece, I have two one-shots coming your way. Keep an eye out for them!

A few shout-outs to my reviewers and readers.  
Reviews: **WingedFlight (First Reviewer)**, Ultra-Geek, redrose7856, Lora Perry, and IrishSongBird.  
Story alerts: Lady Lost-A-Lot, rmiller92, Ultra-Geek, AngelOfPastAndPresent, redrose7856, tukatarina, and floppyearsthebunny.  
Favorite story: WingedFlight, Lady Lost-A-Lot, and Annibal.  
Author alert: Heala.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia. This magnificent series is the property of C.S. Lewis and Walden Pictures.

**Negotiations**

Chapter Two

King Miraz looked at the boy with a small smirk and, leaning back, chuckled to himself at the ingenious plan he had devised. "I will humor your elder brother in combat, but not for the trivial and insignificant matter of _your _people and their hope. I wish to instill the respect and admiration in my subjects' view of myself, as it should be. My brother was far too lenient and as a result he was slaughtered mercilessly in his sleep. I will not allow my fate to suffer in the same manner." At this statement, some of his councilmen jerked their heads up to face their monarch and examine his visage, looking for any sign of a bluff.

Continuing his speech, the Telmarine spoke again, "My people should comprehend that they should respect their monarch indefinitely, and submit to him all they have." Miraz explained this nonchalantly, gazing absently down at the papers on the table and shifting through them inattentively.

Edmund stood there before the councilmen and their despicable king, barely managing to contain his anger and seething to himself. Sensing the young king's mental absence, Miraz called the boy back to attention by adding to his words and continuing to outline his plan.

"You, King Edmund, will be my first demonstration of that power." The Telmarine king finished and began snickering maliciously and obnoxiously when he looked up and saw Edmund's expression to his declaration.

Edmund's composure had fallen and, feeling a lurking danger, reached for the blade bestowed upon him by the centaur he met before the Battle of Beruna. Tapping his hand around where his sword should have been, he begrudgingly recalled leaving the blade with his brother, determined to show the Telmarines that he meant no harm.

"Excuse me?!" Edmund shouted indignantly.

"It's quite simple actually," the Telmarine tyrant went on and, with a discreet motion with his hand to Glozelle who had positioned himself behind Edmund in the corner of the tent, the whole room became abuzz with movement.

The signal, however, did not go unnoticed by the Narnian King of Old and he prepared himself for any number of attacks. Glozelle inclined his head at the young king and looked at the three soldiers positioned around him in a commanding way, sending them into a flurry of soldiers and one Narnian king. The three reached for Edmund's arms instantly and he narrowly leapt from their grasp. Yelping, Edmund spared a glance at King Miraz and noticed he was no longer simply chuckling to himself, but was now bellowing with laughter.

Twisting and turning frantically, Edmund desperately scanned the area for an escape attempt. He grimaced as he realized that his chances of escape were so slim that it was near impossible to accomplish. The Narnian king ceased his struggles and allowed the Telmarine soldiers to wrap their fingers brutally around his arm and yank him to face King Miraz once again. Edmund willed himself not to flinch at the bruises forming on his arms and instead turned to meet the gaze of the king standing directly before him.

While Edmund had scuffled with his soldiers, King Miraz had risen from his chair and walked around the table to situate himself where Edmund had been previously. Edmund stood rigidly between two of the Telmarine men, the third had resigned himself to the back of the tent next to Glozelle, and was shooting indignant glares at the tyrant before him. King Miraz stifled another laugh at the young man's crumpled garments and irate exterior.

The area was silent, apart from the heavy heart beats and ragged breathing of Edmund and the soldiers. Grinning madly, Miraz straightened his posture, lifted his chin arrogantly, and broke the silence with his heavily accented voice, "My people will easily sway to my liking when they pay witness to the public torment and execution of the such a young and," pausing to place two of his calloused fingers beneath Edmund's chin and using his thumb to turn the boy's head to the side to examine it, Miraz said, "Prominent enemy."

Miraz had to tease him to add to the affect his news had taken on the young king. "Don't worry, your majesty," He drawled, making his sarcasm quite clear." I'll make sure your family gets word of our arrangements. Thank you for being so compliant," the Telmarine king said mockingly.

Edmund could scarcely contain the urge to growl that was building in the pits of his stomach. Miraz sneered at the young Narnian king and withdrew his hand back to his side.

Relaxing somewhat now that the madman's hand was no longer touching his face, Edmund turned to glare at Miraz once again when a sharp pain exploded on his cheek, forcing his head to whip to the side. Edmund took the slap without a word or even a small cringe. He was rather proud of himself. Miraz looked quite disappointed that the response to his blow was not what he had hoped for.

Much to Edmund's distaste, the hit forced memories to the forefront of his mind. The same memories he had worked so hard to repress for so many years. He found himself face-to-face with Jadis, the infamous White Witch, and bringing about a strange echo of the cruel bruises and aches he had received while in her company. Not only had the physical injuries been brought back to his attention, the painful guilt of betraying his sibling crashed into his mind and washed over the king like a tidal wave.

Mentally shaking his head and forcing his mind back to the present, Edmund felt himself being hoisted up by the Telmarine men and heard Miraz command in a distant voice, "Make sure our Little King is nowhere he can wriggle his way out of."

Miraz had watched Edmund's face drop from triumphant to an unknown guilt and pain in an instant and, recoiling from the abrupt change, ordered the boy be taken away. When he noted the frightened and doubtful glances he received from his soldiers, Miraz became quite pleased with himself. He dismissed his councilmen and the lone soldier still standing in the vicinity; he sat down once again, this time to compose a letter the Narnian High King. Giddy with excitement and imagining the looks of pure horror and outrage that would cross the Narnian's face when the saw the result of his handiwork, he began crafting his response.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia is the property of C.S. Lewis and Walden Media. Not mine.**

**Hello! Sorry for the wait. I know you don't want to hear my petty excuse, so I suppose I'll just keep those to myself. Here is the problem, I'm kind of hesitant to write chapter four, and I do have it started, because it contains some physical and intentional pain. I'm not quite sure how to write these 'torture' scenes. No, they are not too graphic but they need to make a point. Also, I have my first two one-shots up, both of which have very few reviews, so if you could check them out and let me know what you guys think, it would be greatly appreciated. Please remember to review, I would like to hear what you guys think, and not just the 18 of you that have been so great about this.**

**A special thanks to my awesome beta, Shadow_Elf_Warrior, who has been such a help throughout my first real writng experiences. Another one to Margaret and Jordan, who have been so encouraging and have offered me input and support since the first day we met. You guys are awesome. Lastly, to blazingfire03, so sorry about the wait and thanks for those extra, albeit unintentional, pushes.**

**Negotiations**  
Chapter Three

The sun was beginning to set over the trees and temperatures began to drop. Twilight set in slowly, causing the afternoon shadows to bleed into long shadows that danced on the untamed grass of the wild land. A lone king sat perched on a stone, gazing intently across the vast field and to the edge of the forest beyond. His golden locks were tossed to and fro by the cool winds that swept through the air. His mouth was set in a tight line that reflected the concern and frustration that shone in his clear blue eyes.

Peter was perturbed, to say the least. His little brother had yet to return from the Telmarine campsite. Edmund had set out around three o' clock that afternoon and had yet to return. Peter had felt uneasy about the whole ordeal to begin with as Edmund had insisted upon going alone. Knowing full well of the ruthless cruelty and wicked motives that King Miraz possessed, Peter had reluctantly allowed his little brother to make the arrangements of the  
duel by himself.

Edmund was an excellent diplomat, always Peter's first choice when in a quarrel with foreign land, but he rarely held council with anyone alone. Aside from the obvious fact that Edmund was now only a fraction of his previous height and age, Edmund was speaking with a man who had resorted to slaughtering his own brother for his own selfish gain. Peter could hardly stomach the thought of what could be happening beyond the trees.

Still lost in his rampaging thoughts, Peter did not hear the faint foot falls that came to him quietly from behind. He nearly jumped out of his skin and inhaled sharply, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword, when a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. Turning around quickly with a jerk to his left, Peter looked up stiffly only to find the eldest of his sisters standing just behind him.

The sky had faded to a deep midnight blue that dared you to reach your arms up, only to find an endless pool of liquid suspended in the heavens. Stars were creeping into view, speckling the flawless sky with silver and white. The trees swayed to the wind's command, following its direction like musicians follow the conductor. Crickets chirped eagerly, the sound floating on the wind and lulling the Narnians to sleep once again. As their eyes closed and their minds wandered, the creatures of the night began their intricate ballet, dancing to the music of the wood.

The moonlight shone magnificently on the young queen's face and a light breeze moved her chocolate brown tresses around her neck playfully, framing her features beautifully. Her lavender dress flowed around her gloriously, accented with gold stitching that framed her delicate frame well. The elegance of her exterior was lost when one looked to her eyes, however. Wide with fright and rimmed with red, puffy circles, it was obvious she had been crying.

Alarmed, Peter stood at once. He quickly embraced his fretful sister, giving her a tight squeeze before pulling back again.

"Susan." Peter breathed, unsure of what was wrong and certainly not wanting to make it worse.

"Oh, Peter!" Susan gasped, trembling from more than the chill of the wind.

Peter was lost. He looked her over, searching for an injury of sorts that may require tending, but instead finding a piece of paper clenched firmly in her hand. Curious, Peter pried it from her hands as gently as he could. Susan watched his expression carefully as he unrolled the parchment and began to read.

The ink was smudged from a generous supply of tears and the paper was mangled from Susan's tight grip. Peter's eyes examined the page momentarily before beginning to decipher the message written in an exceptionally sloppy hand.

_'King Peter,  
King Edmund and I have come to an agreement for the current situation. I will meet your blade in two days time, as you requested, allowing your subjects another nights safety. The victor will have the satisfaction of the opposing force's surrender and shall be decided upon by the death of his opponent. In addition, King Edmund has agreed to submit himself to my mercy to insure my appearance on the second day and to guarantee the safety of his 'people' until then. I expect you to honor our decision. We shall speak again when the sun is at its highest point in the sky and our armies face.  
King Miraz'_

Peter's face turned a furious crimson and he began shaking visibly with anger and disbelief. He stuffed the parchment in his pocket and huffed in frustration, sitting himself back down on to the stone. Susan, having managed to recollect her emotions, was working to calm her older brother down and stop the storm she knew was on its way.

"The message was delivered by a soldier about ten minutes ago, but he left in such a hurry that I had had no time to question him or even read the message," she informed him, trying to get Peter's ears to listen to reason, rather than the blind rage boiling inside him.

With a tense expression and a strained voice, the blond king asked his sister softly, "Would you please gather Caspian and the others?"

Though it was spoken as a question, Susan knew it was a command. She nodded and walked back to the How.

Peter watched her go, her pale face stricken with grief and confusion, no matter how she tried to hide it. With a deep, alleviating breath and one more longing glance at the forest perimeter, he followed her steps into the cave, struggling to rid himself of an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Well, here it is. I won't have such a long author's note this time. I apologize for the long wait on the update, my book is so adddictive. This will be the typical wait time between chapters, unless I get really inspired. I decided to push to torture chapter to chapter five because I felt like you guys needed to be exposed to Edmund more. You know, you have to feel his emotions and suffering to really get to know them. What do you guys think? Please let me know, I love hearing your input. Negative and positive criticism is welcome!  
Special thanks to my wonderful Beta, Shadow_Elf_Warrior. Another appreciative thanks to my consultant, JBmusiclover08! And finally, a big hug to Alice and Victoria. You guys are such a help. Thanks for all the support and love.**  


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**Negotiations  
**Chapter Four

Storming through the camp, two Telmarine soldiers struggled to keep their grip on their young captive. Edmund thrashed about, throwing himself around recklessly. He was desperate to be free from the merciless grasp of the duo. His mind was frantic with escape plans, but to no avail. The men were not about to let Edmund go without a fight.

The trio closed in on a large wooden structure that stood in the middle of camp. With a narrow base, two splintered, wooden poles rose high in the air from the opposing ends to be connected by another long post of wood. The structure looked harmless enough.

Edmund's stomach lurched in a nostalgic rush and his eyes widened in disbelief as they got closer. There, hanging from the top beam, were three sets of manacles that hung down from chains that had turned red from rust. The rectangle frame was a structure used for restraining prisoners, for restraining him.

Refusing to let himself be controlled, Edmund shook his head to clear the shock that muddled his thoughts and returned with a new fury to squirming.

Unfazed, the two soldiers hauled Edmund onto the platform and tugged him by his arms, with quite a bit of effort, to the middle set of shackles. Yanking the boy's hands above his head, the two then proceeded to close the crude metal clasps shut around his wrists. They bit into Edmund's skin, not because they were too tight, but because he was too short. His feet did not quite reach the base of the structure and he was left to hang by his wrists.

He held his head high, despite his obvious discomfort, and glowered at the two men as they scurried away. His eyes burned holes in the backs of their heads until they were out of sight.

He held his rigid posture until he was positive no one was looking, Edmund hated vulnerability, and then slumped into his restraints. Edmund stretched his aching limbs and sore muscles, shifting his weight onto different parts of his body. After much experimentation, he decided that the best he could do was stand on his toes to balance his weight. His arms trembled and screamed at him, but he shoved the pain to the back of his mind and tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere. Despite how rusted the chains above his head appeared, the Narnian king discovered that they were quite strong. They would have no problem holding his weight.

He sighed heavily, discomfort setting in. His arms were not the only thing that bothered him, his cheek burned in reminiscence of Miraz's open palm, and his clothing stuck to his sweat drenched body in odd places, adding to his humiliating suffering.

The sun melted into the trees like molten lava. Shining high in the sky, the moon kept watch on the young king as he waited out the night. Edmund stood silently in his bonds. His mind wandered absently and kept him occupied with fantasies of a happier time. Exhaustion eventually overwhelmed the boy's body and he began to drift of to sleep. He faded slowly and his body slumped against his bonds, allowing himself to slip into his dreams. The wind traced his features with gentle caressing breezes and the stars twinkled brightly in the skies. The camp was silent. Soldiers were fast asleep in their tents and the nocturnal animals dare not sing in such vile company, conscious or not.

Tranquility did not last long though, a scream ripped through the camp and Edmund's eyes shot open to the shrill sound. The noise pierced his ears like a blade to the flesh, tearing through his heart and bringing tears to his eyes. He was disoriented and could not bring himself to locate the source of the blood-curdling squeal. A shiver of fear laced through him as his senses returned and he realized that he was the one screaming.

Quieting himself quickly, Edmund's eyes scanned the campsite within his view in a frightened sweep. The breath he hadn't known he was holding was released and the constant pain from his wrists snapped him out of his search. She was gone. Aslan had killed her and she wasn't coming back. He shuddered at the thought, but he knew the horrible terror of ancient Narnia was long gone. Jadis could not hurt his family anymore.

He forced himself to change his train of thought. After all, it was no use getting himself worked up; he would need his energy tomorrow. The raven haired king tilted his head back to stare at the entrancing Narnian sky. To Edmund, everything in Narnia was so much more vivid than it was in England. He loved how the colors would meld and mix together so brilliantly that it took your breath away, loved how irresistible the taste of the sweet sea air clung to everything, and loved how melodic his voice sounded, along with everyone else's. The young king wondered vaguely how he had ever readjusted himself to England.

In this fantastical land he called home, the Narnian sky had always fascinated the Just king the most. During his family's reign, he would often escape from his window to the beach where the tide could lick his toes and he could lose himself in the endless heavens. He would hide in the nearby wood, high up in a tree and listen in a trance to the melody of the Narnians, to escape the pressures of his life. Unlike the pitch black emptiness of the night in Finchley, Narnian skies were a deep blue that seemed to carry on forever. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Edmund chuckled lightly at the triviality of his thoughts. Here, dangling from chains in an enemy camp, he still could distract himself with life's simplest indulgences.

He longed to be by his brother's side on such a glorious evening. The brothers had often laid flat on their backs of an evening and discuss the tales of the various constellations. Susan would be nagging them, without much expectancy for compliance, to get on to bed and Lucy would be giggling as she watched her family and their antics, relishing in the simplicity of it all. How it all seemed so distant to him. Like a dream.

With a half-hearted smile and a single tear, Edmund quieted his mind and slipped back to sleep without even a thought to what might be in store for him tomorrow.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the wait. I finally got over my writer's block. I need to give you guys a little warning, this chapter is a little gruesome. I may bump the rating, so let me know what you guys think. Remember to review!**

**Thanks to the fabulous Alice and Victoria for all their support and advice. Thanks to my wonderful beta, Shadow. And, thanks to Cassady, for her fabulous knowledge of the English language.**

**Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia belongs to C.S. Lewis and Walden Media. Not me. **

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Negotiations

Chapter Five

The sun rose from the horizon and began to spread its warmth throughout the land while whispers shot through the camp like wild fire in an open field, all about what their king had planned in the hours ahead. Under Miraz's orders, the entire army was to bare witness to a demonstration by the king himself in the center of the campsite. Although very little was known by the soldiers of the young man suspended there, his Narnian garb gave the soldiers reason enough to shoot dirty glares and spit at him as they passed. They all knew that the assembly would concern the Narnian.

Miraz shoved the tarp from his path viciously and marched toward his destination with a confident stride. His self-assurance radiated off of him and began to infect those around him. Miraz was giddy with excitement because he had never been presented with an opportunity like this before and was not about to let it go to waste.

The malicious tyrant spotted his prey and did not even bother to choke down his mirth as he advanced. The proud Narnian king looked utterly pathetic. Though asleep, his body was tense and his skin had washed out to a ghostly pale. Dark circles had taken shape below his sunken eyes and Edmund's body shook against the restraints in trembles. He had sunken down into the bonds which had peeled away the tender flesh on his slender wrists.

Miraz placed himself before the young man and faced the base camp, taking note of the gathering crowd. The Telmarine king began to tap his foot as irritation set in. With uneasy expressions and rolling stomachs, the soldiers took their time filing in for the meeting. His army slowly collected themselves and joined their king in a big circle around the large platform and the boy suspended from it; a little too slowly for Miraz's taste. Tired of waiting, Miraz decided it was time to begin.

Casting a glance at Glozelle, Miraz turned his full attention to the adolescent king at his mercy. Drawing his hand back, Miraz's open palm connected with the sleeping captive's face once again. The blow snatched Edmund from his dreamless slumber, and, despite his bewilderment, he knew that Miraz was ready to follow up on his previous statement.

"Men, it has come to my attention that you do not understand our predicament." Miraz's voice thundered. "Our delicate peace has been threatened by a force we had long believed extinct."

"Narnians," the tyrant hissed with such contempt that it made Edmund's blood boil. "Have risen from the dark contours of the woods to take what belongs to us." Miraz paused and turned to Edmund with a sinister stare. The dark-haired boy hated this sense of vulnerability for brought back too many distant, frozen memories.

"And I refuse to let them go unpunished," Miraz droned on. However, Edmund had stopped listening. Miraz still held the audience on edge, but had yet to realize the wandering mind of his prisoner. Miraz twisted around dramatically and his eyes caught Edmund's instantly in a deadlock. The Telmarine king's smug grin became more menacing with every step toward the young monarch.

"Every last one shall receive that chastisement, including their worthless, traitor king!" Miraz shouted the last word and emphasized it with a punch to Edmund's unguarded abdomen. The young man's eyes shot open wide like spot lights in surprise, but not from pain. He had seen the blow coming, that he expected, but Miraz's words stuck in the back of his mind. They tumbled around inside his mind, stinging when they hit the inside of his skull.

The words had distracted Edmund and he hadn't seen the next hit launched toward him. The striking blow to his already bruising stomach sent a thrill of agony running through his body in a relentless rush. His back arched and a breathless gasp escaped his lips when another punch hit the spot a third time. His body pulled itself back instinctively, giving Edmund a vivid reminder of his restraints. A fourth hit resounded in a deafening crack that echoed through the Narnian's ears with a terrible ring.

Miraz had heard it too and was beside himself with satisfaction. The boy seemed to be more fragile than his newborn son. Edmund's pale face was drawn in a mixture of scattered emotions. Fury. Pain. Anguish. Vulnerability. A multitude of expressions that had all invaded Edmund's face in a matter of seconds, no matter how desperate he had been to conceal those feelings.

Miraz, grinning form ear-to-ear, twisted around to find General Glozelle amongst the crowd. The Telmarine king called out to him in a sugar-coated tone, "General, I believe our dear guest is ready for the next round. If you would please…" The monarch trailed off, not finishing his statement and making the area dense with suspense. Nonetheless, Glozelle nodded his head solemnly and set out to fulfill his superior's sinister request.

King Miraz waited patiently for Glozelle, relishing in the attention he was receiving from his soldiers. Their reactions were exactly what he had anticipated. The boy was the perfect leverage to get the men's' attention.

Edmund was watching the soldiers as well, and he despised the very sight of their faces as they watched on. The looks of pity were utterly disgusting. The Narnian king was not ignorant to the sins they had committed on his subjects. Edmund knew they had slaughtered his people for their own selfish greed. No, he had no need for these monsters' sympathy.

Suddenly, Glozelle burst from the crowd and passed a long, thin object into Miraz's open palm.

Circling Edmund with slow, deliberate steps, Miraz looked remotely like a starving vulture, closing in on its defenseless prey. From behind, Edmund felt someone rip his shirt and strip it from his body, exposing his bare chest and back.

Vulnerability washed over Edmund when the wind licked at his spine. Miraz had regained his stern façade and leaned forward to whisper roughly in the boy's ear. "Be prepared, Little King."

Standing back up and using his hands to pat the wrinkles from his attire, Miraz began to shake the long, leather strip out to the side, removing the creases that lined the whip from underuse. Edmund, bracing himself for the impact, pulled his eyes shut and frantically bit his tongue.

The whip cut through the air and hit Edmund's back with a resounding _crack_. A welt began to rise on the raw flesh and thin beads of blood seeped to the surface with every strike. The pain, blinding as it was, subdued itself quickly and made it easier to contain the howls building in the boy's chest.

Without a warning, Miraz's whip struck Edmund's skin over and over again, so many times that Edmund lost count. The lashes ripped through the skin on his back relentlessly, sending a shock of throbbing pain with every hit.

With a deep breath, Miraz stopped the torment and was quite pleased with his work. The young king's back resembled a map, traced on his pale flesh with scarlet trails of fresh blood that had been drawn from his open wounds.

Edmund, though exhausted and numb with distress, knew that he had won the battle. He had not let a single sound escape, no sign of defeat or surrender was present on his beaten body.

Miraz noticed this too, and was not about stop until he forced the miserable brat to squeal.

"It appears that I have chosen the wrong method. Perhaps, something a little more…barbaric is what you need." Miraz's twisted expression grew into a confident and maddening smirk. To both Edmund and Miraz, the crowd no longer existed. They only saw each other, like two gladiators engaged in a pitiless clash to the death. They both refused to back down until nothing remained.

Miraz abruptly stormed off the platform and disappeared into the nearby stables.

Edmund was left there, chained to the platform, to await whatever fate Miraz had in store for him. He wished he could believe that his siblings were on their way. Edmund wanted to think that they would come rushing into camp with swords raised any minute and rescue him, but he knew that this was just a stupid fantasy. Miraz was sure to have done something to guarantee that they would not come for him.

He longed to feel Susan's comforting touch that always managed to make him feel loved and welcome. Edmund yearned to hear Lucy's carefree laugh that lifted his spirits whenever he was near her. But, most of all, the young king wanted to be with his magnificent older brother, organizing combat strategies to save the nation that they owed so much to.

Forcing his mind to change course, Edmund's gaze shifted to a lone tree in the distance. Its branches were bare, despite the wonderful summer weather, and the leaves had long since abandoned it. Slowly, the tree was withering away, but Edmund looked on at it with a certain fondness. He knew the ache the tree must be feeling. Isolated and slowly fading away while your brothers and sisters flourished and blossomed in the warm air. A faint smile crept onto his features when the wind made an attempt to blow the tree down and the tree didn't budge. The tree was fighting back, and Edmund realized it would win, eventually.

Miraz chose that moment to emerge from the stables with a red, burning rod in hand. Miraz nearly ran to the platform, a wild, animalistic look to his eyes. He chuckled quietly at his own thoughts and presented the object to his captive. It was a brand, the tool that farmers and ranchers used to mark their horses. The letter 'M' was positioned on the end and hovering near Edmund's bare chest.

Miraz began to chuckle maniacally as he shoved the brand into the boy's left abdomen. He was shouting to Edmund about how his siblings will always remember who he belonged to, but Edmund had stopped listening. The metal melted his skin and morphed it to a charred black and red. However, Edmund couldn't feel it; his mind was not in the Telmarine campsite any longer.

_An icy wind swept across the dungeon, seeping into a ten year-old Edmund's skin and freezing the nervous sweat forming on his brow. Legs flailing and nails digging into the woman's skin, the young boy thrashed about in the witch's grip. The false queen did not falter though and pressed her hand further into Edmund's throat, shoving him into the wall behind him._

_She peeled the boy's shirt up gently and retrieved her scepter from Ginnabrik, the dwarf standing to her side. Whispering soothing words in Edmund's ear, the witch proceeded to trace a delicate pattern onto his lower, right abdomen. The design decorated his skin with an intricate 'J' and brought about a burning sensation unlike any fire. A mark appeared on his tender stomach which he swore he would conceal for the remainder of his life._

"_Little Prince," Jadis drawled. "I'm simple making it so no one will ever mistake who you belong to and what you've done. Do not fret, My Little Traitor." Her dainty voice froze Edmund to his core at the thought and sent shivers up his spine._

_But, as the pain seared through him and her hand began to tighten around his throat, a great roar rumbled from out of nowhere. It shook the room to pieces and embraced the boy in a affectionate hold. The room slowly shattered and faded from view, quickly being replaced by a glorious garden._

_Not perturbed by the outrageous change of scenery, Edmund took in a deep, reassuring breath and allowed the flowers' beautiful fragrance to carry him away. He wound through the trees as they danced with him and moved from his path. Arms spread wide like an eagle, he flew through the dream-like wood without a care. No Miraz and no Jadis to be seen. _

_Suddenly, a radiant glow appeared from between the abundant branches. An unmistakable golden lion emerged from the thick and approached the boy with a warm smile. _

"_Aslan," Edmund breathed and rushed forward to meet him. He buried his face in the lion's mane and gave a greatly relieved sigh. Aslan chuckled deeply and pulled the boy to face him._

"My child," Aslan addressed Edmund lightly, yet with all seriousness and sincerity in his deep, gold eyes. "I apologize for not coming earlier, but things do become quite hectic. It is time to rest. Sleep now, my son." And with that, Edmund's vision slowly faded and his eye lids became heavier. Little by little Edmund let himself fall back into oblivion with the lion as his guide.

Miraz watched the boy's body slip into the bonds as Edmund fell unconscious. Nevertheless, Miraz was pleased with his effort. Just before Edmund had descended to unconsciousness, a scream had ripped through his throat. The Telmarine king took a step back and admired his work. Blood flowed freely from the boy's torso, staining the rim of his pants, and the large bruise that had decorated Edmund's upper body was an ugly shade of purple. The Narnian king could be killed that night, when the boy was awake to relish in his own demise.

Turning around, King Miraz noticed Glozelle on the platform with a parchment in hand. Written in a messy scrawl, the letter was addressed to King Miraz. Curious, the tyrant snatched the document from his general's hands and tore it open.

"It was delivered only moments ago by a bird flying under Narnian colors. It left before we could even look up, my liege." Glozelle made his statement and took his place within the mob once again.

The soldiers remained silent and still as Miraz read; fearing what would happen if anyone made a sound, or even a movement.

Closing the parchment in one swift motion, Miraz's arrogant smirk disappeared. He hastily departed from the platform and stalked off to his private quarters, leaving the unfortunate, bleeding captive to dangle behind him.

* * *

**Please review, you guys. I love hearing what you think! You're the best!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Heyla, I just wanted to give a big thanks to all my reviewers. You guys really do make my day and make me feel like I'm a somebody. Review and let me know what I can do to satisfy you. I'm here for input and guidance, so please help me out. Thanks to Alice and Victoria, as well. Love you both. And to my wonderful beta, Shadow!**

Oh, yes, I would also like you guys to check out my one-shots. You have done such a fabulous job with reviews on this piece, I would love to kknow what you think. There is also a sequel coming soon for What He Didn't Deserve. It will be another song fiction, but this time to a Bayside song. Watch for it!

**Disclaimer: NOT Mine!**

**Negotiations**

**Chapter Six**

A fist connected solidly with the stone wall, resounding in a loud 'crack'. Huffing and stalking around the cave with steps like a rampaging bull, Peter paced the room, frustration etched on his face. His blonde locks jutted out in odd angles, a result of running his sweaty palms through it all night. Cerulean eyes were flushed with fury and scorched the surfaces they landed on. Peter, so distracted by his missing brother, even failed to notice the blood that tricked from his busted knuckles and stained his fingers an eerie red. Or, rather, he simply didn't care.

Lucy was awkwardly seated on a rock near the exit; the light from the moon highlighting her face, and the glistening tears that raced down it. The young queen's dress clung to her, saturated so much that she had to peel it from her body. Her eyelashes were wet with tears that were waiting to fall while she quietly sobbed to no one but herself. Her mind wasn't on her appearance though; it was with her brother, trapped in an enemy camp.

Like her brother and sister, Susan was beyond her own mind. Her dazed eyes stared into a world that didn't exist; a happier world where she could keep her baby brother safe, where she could keep her whole family safe.

The subtle draft shifted her skirt and danced with her hair across her shoulders. Susan's clammy hands rubbed together anxiously and trembled slightly as she pressed herself further into the small niche in the cave wall.

Caspian the Tenth watched the three siblings, chewing on his lip and gripping the air so hard his knuckles faded to white. He hated how he couldn't ease their pain. Caspian had always been the one his people had turned to for hope, so why was it so hard to get these three monarchs to believe. Edmund and Caspian didn't really know much about each other, nor did they really care to, but he knew that the boy must be very precious to bring this much grief and confusion in his absence.

Leaning rigidly against the wall, Caspian's gaze shuffled through the room, landing on each monarch and then shifting to the next. They were alone in the room and he was forced to keep himself occupied with a lit torch that hung off the wall.

"How did we lose him again?" Peter's outburst startled the room from its stupor. Lucy's eyes darted up to meet his, fear evident in her deep brown irises.

Peter's crazed expression gradually dropped, softening as he approached his baby sister. Taking his battered hand, he laid it on his sister's and gave a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Lu. I've never had the greatest of hold on my temper, have I? This isn't helping him at all."

"We need to pull ourselves together before we can do anything to help him." Susan's voice rang out across the room, as logical as ever. Pulling herself up off ground, she stumbled toward her siblings.

Contrary to their situation, the King and Queens of Old held their heads high and held their composite quite well.

Caspian stood back as the three shared a brief embrace, a desperate attempt to reassure each other, before making his presence known once again.

"Your brother is a mighty king with a strong spirit." Caspian encouraged with his thick Telmarine accent lacing his words. "Edmund will pull through this."

A faint trace of a smile bled onto Peter's face and a tear slid down his cheek solemnly, but he immediately wished he could take it back. Turning around so his back was to the prince, Peter released his sisters' hands and let a sigh escape.

The message ran through his mind like a movie, playing his words for him to hear over and over.

'King Miraz of Telmar,

As High King, and with the full support and compliance of Narnia's queens, I hereby over-rule King Edmund's noble sacrifice. His offer to surrender himself was made without my knowledge nor my approval. Therefore, I demand his immediate return. If this endangers the lives of my subjects, then so be it. We, as a nation, are under no more threat than we had been before. I expect you to honor my decision and respond accordingly. We shall meet again on the field of battle.

High King Peter of Narnia.'

The letter haunted him and appeared before him every time he closed his eyes, Miraz's malicious glare resonating in the ink.

Honestly, Peter did not anticipate Miraz's cooperation. However, the document was official and a direct declaration of his wishes and, as a king himself, Miraz was obligated to comply. After all, the Telmarine king had a reputation to protect.

The Narnian monarchs hoped, for their brother's sake, that this would buy time for Edmund.

But still, what unnerved the Narnians most was the blaring possibility that the young captive could be returned that very night. Or he might never be returned at all.

The thought penetrated the high mental fortress that Peter had spent years building and it crumbled to useless bits around him. It had been weakened since the day he had returned to his dull England life. His emotions rushed to the forefront of his mind and he had fought ever since to keep the overwhelming feelings under wraps.

Then, barely audible, Lucy mumbled out in weak voice, "You know, all I can see is my big brother slipping away from me in the Battle of Beruna. His face was so...pale. I c-couldn't stand to l-l-lose him again!" Lucy's tender disposition melted into tears as she fell forward into her sister's arms. Susan just held her close to her heart as she wept, making small circles with her fingers on Lucy's back and ignoring the tears that were drenching her dress.

"Don't worry. I won't let this happen again. Ever." Peter declared firmly, determination etched on his face.

"Nor will I," said Caspian to assure the trio. He was prepared to risk everything for this family, and for this nation. The bond these people shared was irreplaceable, and Caspian would not stand by silently as his own flesh and blood severed these delicate family ties.

Caspian's eyes shone elegantly in the light of the moon. "The sun may be setting, and the shadows may grow while we sleep, but dawn will come again."

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	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, so sorry for the wait. Life got in the way of pleasure. I want to give a shout-out to an amazing reader who has made me wake up and realize how much I appreciate you guys. Thanks to loveistotheworld1995. I met my deadline! Though, I do feel guilty for the wait. I know I should have picked this up a lot sooner. This chapter is my longest yet and I really hope you like it. I'm setting up for the big battle scene! Please review. I worked all day on this. **

**I have also posted a few one-shots recently that need some love. Please go check those out. One is a sequel to my other piece "What He Didn't Deserve" and the other is my debut into the Death Note writing frenzy. :-)**

**Disclaimer: The Chronilcles of Narnia is the property of C.S. Lewis. I am a only a desperate writer who can't follow up on her commitments. **

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Negotiations

**Chapter Seven**

Sweat glistened on the tyrant's forehead and he ran the back of his hand across it quickly. Stumbling around awkwardly in the dark room, Miraz eventually managed to locate his helmet. He tucked it under his arm and exited the tent quickly.

It was early morning, the sun just beginning to appear and the Telmarines were already abuzz with preparations for the battle to come. Men hopped around enthusiastically, swords drawn, shoving each other excitedly and swinging their weapons above their heads like school boys playing in a courtyard. Suited in heavy armor, many were laughing and stuffing food down their throats as if it would be their last meal. But frankly, when dealing with Narnians, one could never know.

Miraz made his way through his soldiers haughtily, glaring relentlessly at those who dared to stand in his way. The Narnians were clever. Normally, he would've simply ignored the letter. On any other day before his days as king, the yellowed piece of parchment would have been cast aside, burned to never be seen or read again. However, the letter had been delivered in full view of his men. Miraz's reaction didn't help much either. As royalty, he is expected to uphold the silly diplomacies and formalities that separate a king from a common man. He knew that he couldn't kill the miserable young prisoner, not yet. Once the Narnians have been exterminated, the prisoner would not live long; Miraz would ensure that.

The boy was awake by the time Miraz had approached. Dangling pitifully by hid arms, Edmund refused to acknowledge the dark-haired ruler. Focusing all of his attention on a half-dead tree in the distance, Edmund waited for the tyrant to speak.

"Good morning, dear boy. I trust you slept well," Miraz said with mock pleasantries.

Edmund almost laughed. In fact, he felt oddly refreshed given his position. Instead, the Just king turned his head gingerly to face Miraz, following the man's every step with his dark-brown eyes.

"Of course."

"Good." Miraz replied curtly, his voice wavering in his effort to remain relaxed. "I have come to inform you that you won't be staying in my care for too much longer. As soon as you family is removed from the picture, I will return to finish what I had started. I advise you to savor what time you have left."

Fishing around in the bulky metal plates and pile of fine material that adorned his body, Miraz managed to produce two thin, black pieces of cloth.

Edmund was confused. What could he need those for?

"I do apologize, King Edmund. I won't be taking any chances today."

With that stated, Miraz's hands snaked around the boy's head and, though there wasn't much he could do about it, Edmund fought against the man fervently. As hard as Edmund had tried to stop him, Miraz had succeeded in fastening the wretchedly itchy fabric in between the boy's teeth and around to the nape of his neck, twisting his lips into a rather wicked smile of sorts and affectively silencing any further conversations.

Miraz laughed at Edmund's frustration and then proceeded to blind the helpless monarch with the second rag. Grunting in satisfaction, the tyrant roughly patted his prisoner's exposed and shredded back before departing to gather his soldiers.

Edmund's body shuddered in response as his wounds cracked open and clear liquid spilled out. He hadn't really noticed the pain until now, but it was there now. Giving a silent prayer to the great lion, wishing for his family's safety, Edmund turned his thoughts away from the world and into happier memories, adamant that he would survive.

* * *

The remaining Pevensies and Caspian were conversing nervously in the caverns about their strategy for attack.

"Lucy can't go by herself!" Peter shouted at Caspian, enraged at the very thought of his baby sister in the woods alone.

"Peter, stop it. I can take care of myself! After all, I _am _a queen." Lucy countered before Caspian had a chance.

"But you're only a child. I would feel much better if you were accompanied on this journey. Susan, you have to agree with me, right?"

Susan looked slightly surprised that he had asked her and her voice reflected none of her fears or anxiety when she spoke. "You and I both know that it's our only choice. I don't like the idea anymore than you, but we need everyone able to fight here, including myself."

Peter was angry. He didn't like to lose. But a small voice spoke up, hesitantly and his face fell.

"What about Ed?" Lucy asked carefully. "Who will rescue him?"

The room was silent. They knew the risk of what they were doing today and this battle was very delicate.

"I will go. My technique in battle is too similar to that of our enemy. Let me find King Edmund." Caspian knew that his skills were considerably better than most of Miraz's soldiers, but the missing Pevensie needed to be saved. He also felt somewhat guilty that it was his uncle that was holding the King prisoner.

Peter pursed his lips in thought and Susan offered an encouraging smile. The youngest beamed at him and motioned for him to continue.

Bobbing his head stupidly, Caspian resumed his reasoning. "I will take my horse and rescue your brother. I won't return until I have assured myself that he is well. Please, King Peter, trust me with this duty. Allow me to mend the faith you have in me as a fellow monarch, as a man, and as a friend."

Peter looked skeptic, but nodded his approval. "Alright, Caspian, bring our brother home," the blonde king instructed.

Immediately, Caspian turned on his heels and left to collect his supplies for the trip.

* * *

The horse he was riding, though it was as silent as the stars, seemed to sense Caspian's ambitions and ran as fast as it could. Weaving in and out of the trees, the two flew through the forest like birds in the open sky. Branches seemed to clear from their path as they rode, but Caspian chose not to think much of it.

Heat beat down on the long-haired teen, but the fresh air that rushed past him kept him cool and made the warmth of summer all but disappear.

Caspian closed in on the Telmarine camp and dismounted his steed. Securing the beast to a sturdy bough just outside the encampment, Caspian entered the enemy camp.

The army had already departed and the area was desolate and silent. The tents remained erect, Miraz's confidence in his victory convincing him that they'd be returning. Caspian had no idea how many soldiers were lurking in and near the camp, but he knew that they'd need to be taken down before he could do anything else. He began creeping among the numerous tents, holding his bow at the ready.

A soft whistling broke the silence and Caspian tensed. A soldier was close which meant that the boy he had been left to guard couldn't be far. Footsteps rounded the corner and a fairly large man waddled steadily from one leg to the other. Caspian moved quickly. He pulled the string on his bow back to his ear and, before the guard realized what was about to happen, rolled forward and release the arrow into the man's chest and a stream of crimson leaked from the wound, staining the dirt red. Caspian didn't look back, but instead, he continued sneaking about as quickly and soundlessly as he could.

Eventually, he managed to find the center of the camp. His eyes scanned the area from where he hid in the brush. Three soldiers lounged on a large wooden platform. One lay on his back, propping his head up with his hands while another sat awkwardly with his legs crossed next to the first. The third reclined lazily against one of the wooden poles.

Then, Caspian spotted Edmund. The prince was utterly outraged at the position the monarch had been left in. Suspended from his wrists in the center of his uncle's, Edmund remained, blindfolded and gagged. Still too far away though, Caspian could not properly distinguish any wounds.

Stringing another arrow, Caspian leveled his hands and let it go directly into the heart of the standing soldier. Gasping in shock, the man fell to the ground. Startled, the other two stood and drew their swords.

Dashing out of view, Caspian relocated to a new location and embedded another arrow into a second guard. While the third, and final, man staggered and stuttered in fear, Caspian circled ominously and took down the guard easily.

Glancing at the surrounding area once more, just to be safe, Caspian emerged from his hiding spot to help the young prisoner.

The dark haired prince padded quickly to Edmund, his breath catching in his throat when he was able to examine the extent of the boy's injuries. Caspian was livid, to say the least. Welts and blood traced King Edmund's shredded, bare back, burned skin oozed on his lower torso, and bruises marred his freckled skin. His broken ribs looked particularly bad, though. The skin was pushed out because of the bones and dark purples and yellows surrounded Edmund's chest.

Approaching the exhausted form with measured and weighted footfalls, Caspian called to the battered king. "King Edmund?"

Edmund tensed at his name, it sounded wicked when tarnished by that terrible Telmarine accent. But this voice was not harsh or cruel, but soft and sympathetic. He figured it must be Caspian, for he had heard his guards fall and knew that this Telmarine was friend.

"Prince Caspian?" Edmund attempted to say, only to have his words come out in a muffled jumble.

"Here, let me get those off for you."

Digging in his pack, Caspian found his knife and gently removed Edmund's blindfold, tossing it to the ground.

Defeat shone in the wide eyes that he had uncovered, but something else, too. A fighting spirit flared within the king; a defiance and strength of mind to never give in to his oppressors. Caspian couldn't help but admire him for that. Edmund refused to relinquish hope for survival to Caspian's uncle.

Slipping the blade under the gag, Caspian removed it softly from the beaten monarch's face.

"Thank you."

Caspian smiled at Edmund and replied, "If you will give me a moment, I will look for something to break these chains. Miraz probably took whatever keys were used to lock these with him."

"Try the stables," Edmund suggested in a raucous tone.

Bounding from the platform, the prince disappeared into the stables, only to walk back out with a large pair of shears. Caspian positioned the blade, quietly apologized for the pain he knew was about to induce, and snapped the chain link. Edmund crumbled to the ground, groaning in pain. The shears were then used to break the two manacles apart, releasing his wrists from the each other. However, without a key, the cuffs would have to stay put on the Just king's arms.

"I couldn't properly treat your wounds with you hanging in the air like that, could I?" Caspian attempted a chuckle. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yes, I believe so." Edmund replies. He slowly began sitting up and stretching his misused muscles. Caspian peeled his bag off of his shoulder and dumped it onto the platform. A pile of salves, bandages, and a few canteens of herbal water he had swiped from the medical supplies in the cave were revealed.

"King Edmund, you need to sit up straight for me to bandage your broken ribs in place."

"You know," Edmund said. "You can just call me Edmund."

Caspian said nothing but began splashing the water from the canteens onto the boy's back and dabbing at it with a soft cloth, emitting a sharp hiss from Edmund.

"W-where's Peter?" Edmund asked hesitantly.

"He sent me here to take care of you while he and your family keep Miraz occupied."

A frown spread across Edmund's face. "I should be there. Why am I such a burden on them?" Squeezing his eyes shut, the tree came to mind; the same half-alive tree that had captivated his interest earlier. He would be strong and not let the wind blow him down either. He would rush back and make sure that everyone understood that he wasn't just some harebrained little boy who needed to be looked after.

"You're not. They depend on you; they're fighting for you right now just as much as they're fighting for your country."

"Our country," Edmund corrected firmly.

The prince felt pride well up in his heart at Edmund's comment. He was absolutely thrilled that the Just king considered him a friend and a subject of his monarchy. Shifting around to face the boy, he wiped the puss from the gruesome burn mark of his uncle's initial. Caspian cringed at the sight and hurriedly covered it with a bandage. He didn't want to think of that vile man as his uncle.

With his wounds clean and dressed, Edmund began to stand up only to be halted suddenly by two firm hands on his shoulders. He glowered at Caspian for keeping him here any longer. Edmund wanted to return to the cave to help his family.

The thickly accented teenager frowned at the look he was receiving and said, in an authorities tone that reminded Edmund of his brother, "You and I both know that you are in no condition to fight. We will remain here until the battle has been settled and then decide what to do when the time comes and the victor emerges."

"I'm not just going to sit here whilst everyone else is out risking their lives for our country. I'm fine."

"No."

"You can't keep me here."

"Maybe not on normal circumstances, Edmund, but look at yourself. You've been weakened by your time here and are no match for me. I made a promise to your brother that I would not bring you back until you were fit."

"I never listen to Peter. What's more, I usually try my best to do precisely what he doesn't want me to do."

"Well, perhaps you should start. Your brother is a smart man. We are staying here until I say it's safe."

Edmund couldn't stand it. He would prove to Caspian that he was all right. Snatching the sword from its sheath on the prince's belt, Edmund spun around and placed the edge of the blade to Caspian's exposed neck. While he did not come off in doing this painlessly, Edmund's skills were still as incisive as ever.

Searching for the words to say, Caspian settled on silence.

"I'm not convinced that you understand who tops who, Prince Caspian." Edmund growled, a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

Caspian sighed and agreed that his word was no longer the word to follow. He knew the argument was over the moment he saw Edmund seize his sword. The Just king handed the sword back to Caspian and shoved the medical supplies back into the bag.

"No, Edmund, you take the sword. I can handle myself with a bow." Caspian removed the sheath from his belt and pushed it into the boy's hands. "I don't have any extra clothes. To be honest, I never anticipated your wounds to be so extensive. I can't do anything for your wrists until we get the shackles off either. We can banda-"

"Stop talking or we'll miss the action. Let's go."

Caspian and Edmund left the platform and sought out Caspian's horse. Climbing on quickly, the duo sped off to battle.

* * *

Not too far away, Narnians cheered and shouted from the exterior of the cave and Telmarines jeered unpleasantly at the opposing army. Two kings stood in the middle of it all; helmets on and blades drawn. Peter and Miraz glared at one another, daring each other to move.

With a cry, Peter lunged forward and the two blades clashed. The war has begun.


	8. Chapter 8

**All right, I finally got around to updating! This chapter is the big battle scene. I had to watch the movie a few times to analyze the techniques used in the battle. I did change it, though. I made the fight fit more to my storyline. :] Hey, that't the way I want it though. **

**To all the Twilight fans out there, I have writted a series of one-shots and a mulit-chapter piece that aren't getting much love. They feature Jasper Hale, with Alice in tow, the most, as well as a few for Seth Clearwater and Jacob Black. I would love to hear from you guys, my wonderful Narnia readers, in that genre. Check it out if you get a chance!**

**Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia belongs to C.S. Lewis. I am not C.S. Lewis. As such, this is not mine.

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Negotiations

Chapter Eight

_Ching_. Metal clashed against metal; king against king. The heat of the afternoon sun was unbearable. Here and there, small clouds spotted the endless azure skies. Sweat poured down Peter's face and his breath was coming in heavy pants. He wasn't used to the stamina needed to battle or the weight of the armor. He slung his sword from side to side, the feeling familiar and practiced. Peter was not about to let this man get away from him alive.

Suddenly and savagely, Miraz cut down through the air at the tiring younger king. Peter stumbled backward from the force of the particularly powerful blow. With a wicked laugh, Miraz began to circle Peter, leering triumphantly..

"You remind me of your brother, King Peter. You pretend to be strong and defiant, but once the shell has been broken, you'll crumble. He was really quite pathetic. Such a pity that he had to d-"

Peter lunged at him. Soaring into the air, the fair-haired king longed to see the crimson that pulsed inside Miraz to spill across the battlefield. This man had dared to harm his brother. Peter wished he could see the vacant eyes of this despicable man, dead and lifeless, as he lay with a blade through his heart on the barren battlefield. Miraz would not live to see another day.

His blade sliced through Miraz's defenses with ease. The Telmarine king had been unprepared. The chain mail snapped under the pressure of Peter's attack and blood seeped from the wound. Ripping it out of Miraz's stomach, where the sword had struck, Peter watched as the sadistic king crumpled forward. Crying out in agony, Miraz had been defeated.

The Narnians erupted in delight. Their king had done it. But Peter wasn't satisfied. Miraz was still alive. Advancing with the intent to kill, Peter stood over Miraz. Hands steady, Peter lifted his sword above the heart of the defeated king.

'He deserves this,' Peter thought. Eyes shooting holes in the back of Miraz's head, the Magnificent king leveled the weapon and. . . no. Peter couldn't do that. What would that make him? He would be no better than Miraz. Revenge never got anyone anywhere.

"Your blood is not worth my time," Peter spat. Lowering his arms back to his side, he turned to his people. Pasting on the biggest grin he could find, he raised his fist into the air. "Long live Narnia!"

Stepping lightly on the bright green grass that speckled with grey stone, Peter removed his helmet, handing it off to a bear that stood at the ready nearby, and leaned his weight against on of the large stones that surrounded area. It was a relief to be able to breathe again.

"Long live King Peter!" a familiar voice called from the tree line. Caspian emerged from the shadows. Marching toward the Narnians, Caspian turned to Peter. "I kept my promise."

Wheeling the horse around, Peter was met with the expectant eyes of his brother. Gingerly dismounting the horse, Edmund was immediately enveloped in Peter's arms. Sure it hurt, but it was worth it.

"Edmund, are you alright?" Peter questioned him without releasing the boy from his arms.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Edmund replied firmly.

Holding his brother out at arm's length by his shoulders, Peter looked him over. Edmund's body was littered with bruises and bandages. The blonde king did not want to think about what could be underneath the bundles of white. The younger had no shirt and shackles were clasped firmly around his bloodied wrists.

"I suppose you'll never admit otherwise," Peter chuckled. "Oh, Edmund," he said. "I've missed you so much."

The Telmarines were silent. Stunned at the loss that they had suffered, the soldiers were clueless as to what they should do. Sopespian reared around in fury when he saw Edmund and Caspian appear. "Arm yourselves! Prepare for battle!"

The Narnians reacted to the command as quickly as the Telmarines had. Peter raced back to the How, Edmund and Caspian in tow. "Get ready!" Peter cried.

Both armies rumbled in anticipation.

"These animals murdered our king! Take them in honor of the great King Miraz!" Sopespian shouted. Telmarines began to march forward, their eyes filled with brain-washed passion: mindless killing machines.

The Narnians watched as the Telmarines approached. They stood tall, despite the overwhelming odds. Peter took his position at the front. Edmund stood to his right, sword drawn, and Caspian set his bow on Peter's left. "For Aslan and for Narnia!" they shouted in unison.

The soldiers slammed into each other, clawing at the skin of their opponents. They dug their blades into the flesh and launched their arrows at the heart. Blinded by the blood of their brothers, Narnians and Telmarines plunged into battle, killing whoever dared to get too close. After all, war is a bloody affair.

Edmund's body ached. It screamed at him with every movement, but he chose to ignore it. His country was worth more to him than a little pain. He watched the eyes of every man that lay dead on the battlefield, slain by his blade.

Edmund knew that they did not expect to live; their passion wasn't for their king, or even their country, but for their freedom. But these men had become so blind to what freedom really meant, they didn't know how to find it; how to fight for it.

The numbers of the Telmarine force slowly began to decrease. Bodies were everywhere Edmund looked; forgotten in the panic. He watched his people strike down Telmarine after Telmarine, but the bodies were Narnians, too. Unlike the soldiers that had formerly been under Miraz, Edmund would see to it that they were properly buried and honored for their devotion.

The Telmarine forces had retreated to the river and the terrain shifted from grass to pebbles. Heading the aerial attack, Susan and Caspian chased after diligently, bows prepared to fire.

Susan had never fought so hard. These men had allowed their king to torture her little brother. She would never forgive their retched deeds. Caspian was next to her, watching as she ripped through the soldiers like they were paper, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind her. Queen Susan did not take lightly to those who threatened her family.

The Telmarine prince recognized the faces of those men he fought. They had been his men. He had to shove himself forward, against the very boys he had had grown up with.

A deafening, rumbling roar broke through the cries and shouts of war. The clear blue skies and sleeping trees shook and the soldiers fell silent.

Aslan.

Lucy stood at the end of the bridge, hands tangled in the great lion's mane. Smiling, proud of her achievement, drew her dagger from her belt. Brushing her hair from her forehead, she raised it to what was left of the Telmarine army. Aslan let loose a low grumble and the Telmarines retreated slowly. Even the tides of the clear, blue river seemed to recede in his presence.

No one dared to challenge the glorious beast. No one, that it, except Sopespian.

Stomping forward on his onyx steed, he said to his men, "This 'Aslan' is no more than the incompetent animals that you brave soldiers have conquered today. He is no match for your superiority! Telmar will triumph!"

But the soldiers did not budge.

"My children, this man and his successors have corrupted your minds with greed and unjustified hatred. Will you allow him to convince you to turn against me?" Aslan said in a deep and complacent tone. He meant no harm to those who would choose peace over bloodshed.

The Telmarines stared dumbly at the lion, but did not move.

Sopespian began to frantically trot in circles. His men had abandoned him.

"Cowards!" he cried.

Aslan leapt forward, leaving Lucy at the end of the bridge, and faced Sopespian.

"It is not cowardly to do what you know is right."

Sopespian gawked at the golden being in front of him, glaring hostilely. He refused to be ridiculed by this barbarian. Retrieving the sword from its sheath in an instant, he lowered the blade to Aslan's heart. With a shout, he plunged the sword into the great king's chest.

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**Don't worry.** **I have the next chapter written and it will be up soon. Maybe next weekend?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's the last chapter! There will be an Epilogue, though. It's important to wrapping up the storyline, so stick around for it. That will be up tomorrow or the day after. Promise. :]**

**Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia is not mine. This wonderful series is the property of C.S. Lewis.**

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Negotiations

_Chapter Nine_

Sopespian grunted and looked down at his chest. Protruding from his chest was a single arrow. Blood soaked his tunic where the arrow had shattered his ribs. He dropped the sword that was mere inches from the great lion's heart. He had been so close. Toppling off of his horse, his limp form fell into the river, being carried away by the gentle current.

Susan's face was stained with tears. She lowered her bow and glanced at Aslan. She expected a frown, or maybe a shake of the head, most certainly not a smile. The corners of the Gentle queen's delicate smile lifted slightly; a small gesture. She wasn't proud of the lives she had claimed today, but understood that it was not in vain. The lives that had been stolen away by the arrows from her bow had been taken for her baby brother; for Edmund. And that made all the bloodshed worth it.

The Telmarines were looking fretfully at one another. Their king was dead. Should they fight? An ornately uniformed soldier pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it to the great lion. Glozelle.

"Telmar surrenders," he declared. The soldiers behind him dropped their weapons immediately. His forlorn gaze landed upon Caspian. "We seek your forgiveness, my prince. We welcome your leadership if you wish it so."

Caspian's jaw dropped and he stared at the Glozelle. His brothers were ready to start anew.

"It is my duty to defend my people, even if the one thing they need protection from is their king. I hope I will be the man you believe me to be."

The Telmarines seemed at peace with this decision as their stances and faces relaxed and timid smiles lit up their worn features. He could only pray that he would be what they needed. Casting an encouraging look at his people, Caspian transferred his concentration back to the mighty lion.

"Kings and Queens of Narnia, step forward," Aslan beckoned them in a cavernous voice.

Lucy dashed toward him, grabbing her sister's hand once across the bridge and tugging her toward Aslan. Not far behind, Peter and Edmund emerged from the crowd of soldiers, stepping carefully over the mass of arms that lay abandoned by the Telmarines. The four kneeled before Aslan, heads dipped low in respect.

Nodding at the siblings, Aslan turned to the crowd. "All of you." His eternal eyes met the dark brown eyes of Caspian. A grin, wider than any that had ever graced his face before, spread and he forced himself to keep an even pace as he approached the monarchs. Bringing himself to his knees, he had never been so delighted. After all this time, it was his turn to take control of _his_ country. Stealing a look at the Pevensie's, he knew that he had a lot to live up to.

"Rise," Aslan commanded and they did. "Well done, my children. Narnia will not forget the sacrifices given and the bravery displayed by you; by your people."

"Aslan, why didn't you show up sooner?" Peter asked with genuine inquisitiveness in his voice.

"Things never happen the same way twice, Peter." Aslan responded. The Magnificent king sighed and looked to his feet, as if the answer had been obvious. "Edmund, come forward." Edmund's head shot up, seeming surprised that he had been addressed directly. With some difficulty, he willed himself forward, his body screaming at him for every little movement. There was no hiding the numerous wounds now. While he had survived the fighting, the white strips that wound around his body did not.

"Scars tell a story and remind us of our mistakes and our triumphs." Edmund's wounds began to sew themselves shut and his ribs repositioned themselves properly in his chest. The bruises faded, transforming his skin back into his tanned and freckled flesh and the charred skin on his abdomen sizzled and scabbed over into nothing but a pale disfigurement of the skin, barely reminiscent of the letter it was meant to represent.

"They are not battle trophies, but a tale that has been engraved into our skin. Never forget that tale, for it is unique and remarkable," Aslan lifted the boy's chin to look at him. "Keep your head held high, my son."

Edmund was pulled back to his siblings and immediately surrounded by the small arms of Lucy. She squeezed him as tightly as she could, pressing the air out of his lungs. "Edmund!" she shouted. "I've missed you so much. Don't ever leave me again."

Susan threw herself against him, sobbing and relieved to have him home again. "You had me awfully worried. Are you alright?" Edmund patted her back warmly, returning the hug whole-heartedly. He had missed his family so much. Placing a soft kiss on each of his sisters' heads, the Just king turned to Caspian.

"You have my infinite gratitude. You kept them from harm when I wasn't around to fill that duty myself."

"But you did. Your country fell to pieces without you, Edmund. You are the glue that keeps them together," King Caspian replied.

Edmund laughed and turned to the sky. A single cloud drifted across the sky, dark and heavy with rain. "Not anymore. A new dawn is on its way. Caspian, bring the rain to this devastated land. Narnia doesn't need a prince right now, it needs a king."

The men and beasts cheered and howled for their kings and queens. An almighty roar rumbled and ripped from Aslan's chest. Telmarine and Narnian alike celebrated, dancing around the trees. The trunks rattled as they awakened from their slumber. The vibrant and endless sky reflected the high spirits and the grass began to stand up straighter. Narnia had their king again.

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**I know it's short, but there will be more!  
****If you have any suggestions for new stories or anything to add to this, let me know.  
Thanks so much!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia is not mine. It is the property of the incredible and inspiring C.S. Lewis.**

Well, here we go. This is it! I just wanted to say thanks to all you wonderful and dedicated readers. Thanks for spending your valuable time and energy to read and review. It makes my day shine so bright when I open my inbox to a new review. It means so much that you all have stuck with me through this, as sporadic as the posts were. You are all incredible and I hope to hear from you in my other pieces as well. **

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**

Negotiations

_Epilogue_

Edmund wandered through the wood, searching. He knew it was here somewhere. The Just king had been hunting for it for hours.

The rain was pouring down, and Susan was going to have a fit when he returns, but he can't leave without seeing it one last time.

The grass had grown tall, hampered for years. Now, it had a reason to grow and flourish. Narnia was truly alive; it had awoken from its slumber and with it came the trees.

All tyranny had perished in the flames of battle, leaving only beauty and the rain.

Miraz died only hours after the battle had ended. It was like he had lost the will to live. The healing dryads did their best, but Miraz didn't want to wake up. The remaining Telmarines had opened their homes to the Narnians. It would take time, but things would smooth over and peace would invade the land. With Caspian as the guide, Edmund was positive that serenity would find its way here.

Grey clouds hovered overhead. They weren't sad clouds, or even solemn, just refreshing like a spring time shower. Walking with measured footfalls, Edmund had been traveling through the forest, his feet squishing into the mud and leaving tracks behind him.

Then he spotted it, withering, but surviving, in the distance: the tree that had become his salvation while trapped here. Racing through the meadow, now blossoming with little yellow tulips and other wildflowers, he plopped down in the mud beside it.

The trees were all awake, so why not this one? Edmund laid his hand on the wilted bark of the tree. A smile spread across his face. It wasn't dead. Not yet. This tree was a survivor; a late sleeper.

Turning around so his back may lean against its trunk, Edmund titled his head back and let the rain hide his tears.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "You'll wake up. You're just a bit of a late bloomer."

Edmund sat like that for hours, listening to the steady beat of the rain and the hum of life brewing inside the tree.

"Edmund!" a voice called out. Trotting into the meadow on two brilliant black steeds, his elder siblings rode into view. Peter and Susan dismounted their horses and strode toward him, stern looks on their faces. Edmund was glad that his tears would not be seen in the showers.

Peeking at them, he lifted one eyelid and grinned. "Hello."

"We've been looking for you, Edmund. Why would you wander off like that?" Susan started in on him.

"Just thinking, I suppose," he responded.

"Well, come on. Let's get back before we all catch a cold," Peter advised, a look of understanding in his eyes.

Pulling himself off the ground with a heavy sigh, Edmund clambered on to one of the stallions with his sister. Stealing one last glance at the tree, Edmund said his silent goodbyes and steered the horse back home.

The tree would heal and become the greatest in the whole forest. No one knew of its strength or potential. That lone tree would prove to them all someday that it was one of the best. The world would never understand it, though, that's what set this tree apart from the others. It has seen darkness in its truest and most base form. Because of this, the tree would know what true happiness was. Without darkness, the world would have no light.

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**I love you all. I want to give a few final thank you's as well. Alice, Moe, Ness, Victoria, you are so encouraging about everything I do. When I see you, through our tears and laughs, I know that the world is something to wake up to tomorrow. You guys light up my world. :]**

**Check out my other work if you get a chance!**


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